If Cami was angry, her father was furious.
He worked as a mechanic at the airport, and even though he acted like he didn’t care that his wife had moved on, that day after the court hearing, something changed. For one thing, after that first time Cami saw a beer in his hand, her dad was never without one. Before her mom left, Dad used to keep his blond hair short and his face smooth. And on the weekends he would constantly be thinking up adventures for the family.
Something in their budget, he would say. A peanut-butter-and-jelly picnic at the park. They’d pack a bag of sandwiches and oranges and spend half the day on the swings or kicking around a soccer ball and eating PB&Js. Other times they’d head to the lake and build sand castles.
But after their mother left, a part of her dad died. That must have been it, because he never again suggested an adventure for the weekends. Instead he stayed home, anchored to ESPN and drinking beer.
“Do your own homework,” he would tell the girls. “Make your own sandwiches.” “Take your own trips to the park.” It became pretty obvious to Cami and her sisters that they hadn’t only lost their mother the day she left.
They lost their father, too.
All this time later, Cami’s dad wasn’t the same person. He didn’t act the same or talk the same. He didn’t even look the same. His hair was long and straggly. Oily, maybe. Like some of the airplane grease must’ve gotten mixed into it. He cut it every once in a while, but never shorter than his jawline.
He looked like someone trying to hide himself. Because all that hair made it impossible to see his face unless he looked straight at her. And Cami’s father rarely looked straight at any of his girls. It was like he was living in his own world and just happened to share a house with Cami and her sisters.
Like he was a stranger.
And that wasn’t all. Her dad had gotten a tattoo. Which was fine for other dads. But her dad used to brag about being the only mechanic at the airport without a tattoo. “Don’t want to be like everyone else,” he would tell Cami and her sisters. Not that it mattered. Cami sort of liked tattoos. But her dad didn’t. That was the thing.
After her mom left, everything changed.
The weird thing was, Cami caught her mom drinking alcohol before she ever saw her dad have that first beer. A year prior to her mom moving out, Cami found her in the laundry room pouring herself a glass of wine.
“Mom!” Cami had stared at her. “What are you doing?”
Her mother had quickly opened the cupboard above the washing machine and set the bottle on the shelf. She held up the glass and tried to laugh. “This?” She looked like she was grabbing words from thin air. “Sometimes Mother needs a little help to get through the afternoon.” She laughed again and set the glass on top of the machine. “You’ll understand someday.”
Cami didn’t know what to say. But she did know one thing for sure. The wine her mother was drinking wasn’t “once in a while.” Because late that night Cami checked. The cupboard where her mother stashed the bottle held four others just like it.
Her mother never mentioned the wine again, but Cami felt weird about it. Why would her mom need to drink while she did the laundry? Cami knew the kids at her school drank because it gave them all the feels they didn’t get at home. When they were lonely, drinking made them feel included, and when they were ignored, drinking made them feel accepted. Bigger than life. Like they mattered.
But why did her mom have to drink? And why did she hide it?
Cami had tried drinking, but she didn’t like it much. And after that day in the laundry room, Cami never drank with her friends again. The image of her mom pouring herself a glass of wine, surrounded by dirty clothes, between folding towels, was too surreal. Cami had no idea what she was going to do with her life or how she’d even make it out of Hamilton High.
But she knew one thing for sure. When she was older she didn’t want to be sneaking glasses of wine next to the washing machine.
A year later, after her mother left, Cami understood the wine a little better. Her mother needed alcohol the way the kids at Hamilton needed it. So that the reality of life wouldn’t kill them. For her mom, it was her own fault. Her own actions that had been driving her crazy.
Sitting in the front row at church Sunday morning . . . cheating with someone the rest of the week. Which meant all that time they were pretending to be a family, Cami’s mother was living a lie.
No wonder she drank in the laundry room.
Before her mom left, there were times Cami would think about God. Her mom had even starting taking Cami and her two sisters to church. Sometimes Cami would give Him credit for putting her in this family. For giving her a mom and dad and sisters. Like, they had to come from someone. So maybe they were a gift from God. After all, her family seemed pretty happy back then. No, they didn’t have much money. Her mom had worked part-time at a temp agency. One day a secretary, one day a filing clerk.
“There’s too much to do around the house for me to get a full-time job,” she used to say.
So they went to the movies here and there and took their adventures to the park. No big deal. And yes, every so often Cami would think about God.
But now that her mother was gone, now that Cami knew the truth about how her mom spent her off days, Cami’s view on God had changed. A lot. The part she couldn’t get past was the fact that the man who had destroyed their family was a Christian. Or at least he claimed to be.
Cami settled into the back corner of Room 422 and pulled her long blond hair into a ponytail. The first Raise the Bar meeting was set to start in five minutes, and already the place was packed. She wanted to walk to the front of the room and scream at everyone.
Were they kidding? Did they honestly think God was real or that He cared about their terrible, empty lives? Did they believe He was all-knowing and all-seeing, but He couldn’t make a mother stay with her children? Anger was right there beside her, chuckling under his breath. He was whispering at Cami again. Glad you’re not stupid enough to believe there’s a God.
Of course she wasn’t that stupid.
Cami pulled a spiral-bound notebook from her backpack and opened it to the first page. It was blank. She hadn’t taken notes in class today. She was too mad about this Raise the Bar club thing. After all the kids at Hamilton High had to deal with, now Principal Quinn was going to lie to them and tell them there was a God?
She wasn’t having it. She would take notes, and tomorrow she would call the police. They didn’t need to arrest Principal Quinn. Just make him drop the ridiculous idea of teaching students about God and the Bible. Cami shook her head and waited.
So stupid.
Sure, if some kids were blind enough to believe in God, let them start a program. But why the principal? Mr. Quinn was using his position to practically force students to come. Free food. The nerve of him. Cami wasn’t going to take it. The whole thing was illegal and she knew it.
Mr. Quinn needed to be shut down.
She took in the situation around her. Most of the kids were young. Just one other junior, and no seniors. That was because most of the upperclassmen were meeting a dealer across the street in the overflow parking lot. The guy was a regular at Hamilton. Pot. Cocaine. Opioids. Ecstasy. Whatever drug the kids wanted. The juniors and seniors would get high and then go hide in their bedrooms and pretend they were doing homework. All so they could fall asleep and repeat the whole routine tomorrow.